There are many kinds of days on Phuket. Today was a day of perfect clarity. The Andaman Sea was a stunning turquoise blue accented with sparkling white breakers. The steady breeze had the red, white and blue Thai flag and the yellow King’s flag that line the beach road flying.
It began as, and this late afternoon still is, the perfect paradise day…..so it is easy to push away what happened in between. The children are playing again: happy, smiling and dancing to Job To Do reggae band that the Foundation brought to play for them this afternoon.
Today is the day before the Queen’s birthday, a national holiday, and also celebrated as Mother’s Day. Our school had an assembly similar to the one for Teacher’s Day. The whole student body was gathered and seated in rows on the floor of the assembly hall. There was the singing of the Queen’s anthem, presentations by the Director in his military uniform, and other leaders’ presentations. A band of particularly mischievous 5th graders sang a tender song about mothers, there was traditional Thai dancing, and academic awards for each grade were bestowed.
Many, many mothers of the students came to the assembly hall for the program and additional benches were brought in to accommodate them.
In the final portion of the program, class by class, the mothers went to the front of the hall and sat down in two rows of chairs to await their children filing up to them to present them with flowers. I moved closer to try to catch a glimpse of my students’ mothers and maybe to have a chance to meet them and say a few good words about their children as they filed out. I watched this simple process of students kneeling before mothers. It was full of sentiment -- touching, hugging, soft words, and then both students and mothers with tears of appreciation, gratitude and love. I was feeling the emotion.
I also began to notice that teachers were standing in for students who were without mothers. I was stunned by the number of my students who did not have mothers present – tsunami orphans, or mothers too far away and unable to get to them? As I watched, Teacher Sue asked me if I would like to join her in the front to sit-in for absent mothers. I followed her to the row of chairs in the front of the room and sat down. A large group of 4th and 5th grade students filed before us and gathered on their knees around Teacher Sue and me. My students. Mes, who we nick-named “The Smile Factory” was trying to smile as a tear rolled down his cheek and I wiped it away. And Off kneeled on my right, seeming timid and fragile and shy, eyes puffy, giving me the flower for a mother who was not there. Taan, Sun, Nee, Yaa, Plaa, Phoo, Nai, Ten, Wut, others too. Boys and girls red-eyed and crying, and I found myself crying too. Even On, who is older and usually tough, had tears running down his face.
Cameras were snapping as Teacher Sue and I tried to console and hug them. There may be photos that I might post at some point.
It was a flash of time - so brief and so raw. A little glimpse of a reality seldom seen in these children’s playful, happy and loving manner.
Unfair, I thought, injustice. Love and loss. How can life hand these young ones such sadness?
The mother-honoring process continued and the children filed through, and they moved outside into the sunny day, and then on to lunch. The moments of crying felt dream-like, vanishing into our tropical postcard.
But what is raw and tender is still there, although tucked away and hidden. The day goes on, but we remember.....hoping not to remember too often.
This is what came to me before and on Mother's Day. One paper heart "necklace" on a string was delivered to me in the middle of my class with second graders by five fourth grade girls.
It began as, and this late afternoon still is, the perfect paradise day…..so it is easy to push away what happened in between. The children are playing again: happy, smiling and dancing to Job To Do reggae band that the Foundation brought to play for them this afternoon.
Today is the day before the Queen’s birthday, a national holiday, and also celebrated as Mother’s Day. Our school had an assembly similar to the one for Teacher’s Day. The whole student body was gathered and seated in rows on the floor of the assembly hall. There was the singing of the Queen’s anthem, presentations by the Director in his military uniform, and other leaders’ presentations. A band of particularly mischievous 5th graders sang a tender song about mothers, there was traditional Thai dancing, and academic awards for each grade were bestowed.
Many, many mothers of the students came to the assembly hall for the program and additional benches were brought in to accommodate them.
In the final portion of the program, class by class, the mothers went to the front of the hall and sat down in two rows of chairs to await their children filing up to them to present them with flowers. I moved closer to try to catch a glimpse of my students’ mothers and maybe to have a chance to meet them and say a few good words about their children as they filed out. I watched this simple process of students kneeling before mothers. It was full of sentiment -- touching, hugging, soft words, and then both students and mothers with tears of appreciation, gratitude and love. I was feeling the emotion.
I also began to notice that teachers were standing in for students who were without mothers. I was stunned by the number of my students who did not have mothers present – tsunami orphans, or mothers too far away and unable to get to them? As I watched, Teacher Sue asked me if I would like to join her in the front to sit-in for absent mothers. I followed her to the row of chairs in the front of the room and sat down. A large group of 4th and 5th grade students filed before us and gathered on their knees around Teacher Sue and me. My students. Mes, who we nick-named “The Smile Factory” was trying to smile as a tear rolled down his cheek and I wiped it away. And Off kneeled on my right, seeming timid and fragile and shy, eyes puffy, giving me the flower for a mother who was not there. Taan, Sun, Nee, Yaa, Plaa, Phoo, Nai, Ten, Wut, others too. Boys and girls red-eyed and crying, and I found myself crying too. Even On, who is older and usually tough, had tears running down his face.Cameras were snapping as Teacher Sue and I tried to console and hug them. There may be photos that I might post at some point.
It was a flash of time - so brief and so raw. A little glimpse of a reality seldom seen in these children’s playful, happy and loving manner.
Unfair, I thought, injustice. Love and loss. How can life hand these young ones such sadness?
The mother-honoring process continued and the children filed through, and they moved outside into the sunny day, and then on to lunch. The moments of crying felt dream-like, vanishing into our tropical postcard.
But what is raw and tender is still there, although tucked away and hidden. The day goes on, but we remember.....hoping not to remember too often.
Instead, we dance to reggae and watch the turquoise waves rolling in.
This is what came to me before and on Mother's Day. One paper heart "necklace" on a string was delivered to me in the middle of my class with second graders by five fourth grade girls.